To optimists, cheerful and hopeful men
The rain will wipe down all sand castles
The mellow fields,
         where I grow my dreams
Die slowly under my autumn trees
Blue skies get darker with every sin
The ocean gets utterly mad,
          when carrying nothing but desperate men
And the faces I once loved are getting dull
I don't need a hand as I can't reach
I don't need a lighthouse as I lost my sight
I don't need a day as I can't surpass the night